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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28961991">Semi-Lucid</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliafied/pseuds/juliafied'>juliafied</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>DA Drunk Writing Circle Prompt Fills [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, F/M, Post-Break Up, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt, dadwc</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:34:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>351</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28961991</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliafied/pseuds/juliafied</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hawke.”</p><p>This is painful, Fenris realizes. She is slumped over, tankard in hand, forehead gently pressed to the dirty wood of their regular table. He feels a flash of anger at whoever left her like this, before he realizes he really ought to be angry with himself.</p><p>He hesitates at the bottom of the stairs for just a moment, taking just half a breath and steadying himself against the bannister. The amount he has drunk is not inconsiderable, and Hawke is so very, very sad.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fenris/Female Hawke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>DA Drunk Writing Circle Prompt Fills [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2099877</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Semi-Lucid</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>“Hawke.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>This is painful, Fenris realizes. She is slumped over, tankard in hand, forehead gently pressed to the dirty wood of their regular table. He feels a flash of anger at whoever left her like this, before he realizes he really ought to be angry with himself.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hesitates at the bottom of the stairs for just a moment, taking just half a breath and steadying himself against the bannister. The amount he has drunk is not inconsiderable, and Hawke is so very, very sad. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He repeats her name as he slides into the seat next to him, careful not to accidentally touch, and she mumbles something under her breath. It’s not unlike the sleepy mumbles he regrets having heard before, if for the pain his presence caused her. The same soft skin of her arm he’s seen before is exposed, too, crossed on the table, same soft curve of her hip that he tries desperately to avoid grazing with his own.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hawke,” he tries for the third time, “you need to get up. It’s time to go home.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mmph,” she says, almost contentedly, “Fenris.” She turns her head in his direction. She says this in a tone of voice he knows well - one he has not heard much lately, Hawke having abandoned it in favour of steel and coolness and heartbreak. He stiffens at the sound.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re here,” she says, with a mild sense of wonder and a slur to her words. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Then, she simultaneously sits up and reaches to cup his face, fingers oustretched, and his heart stops. So, too, it seems, does time - her palm hovers by his cheek, and for a moment he wishes for nothing more than to lean towards her, bring his lips to hers, and let out the sigh that he wishes he wasn’t holding.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He is able to stay his beating heart, however, and his hand flits up to clumsily grasp hers instead. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Come,” he murmurs into her knuckles, bitterly resenting the hold she seemed to have over him. To escape a magister only to come under another’s spell. “I’ll get you home.”</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For <a href="https://dadrunkwriting.tumblr.com/">DADWC</a>. Prompt from <a href="https://midnightprelude.tumblr.com/">midnightprelude</a> on Tumblr: “you’re only semi-lucid and are sort of reaching for my face and for various reasons I shouldn’t kiss YOUR face, but your hand is right here and I still need to convey affection” for whoever you fancy!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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